


Accord

by Moiraine



Category: Captain America (2011), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Children, Gender Imbalance, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moiraine/pseuds/Moiraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They didn’t formalize their arrangement in front of a judge or a minister. There were no contracts to sign, or clauses and compromises spelled out in detail. It was just the four of them in a weather-beaten tent, with a stolen bottle of wine and four battered cups.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this kmeme [prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/7940.html?thread=15095556#t15095556), this fic is basically an exploration of how the Avengers universe might work if there was a gender imbalance with more males being born than females. How does society change when there are less women than men?
> 
> I don't want to spell things out too deliberately. I trust you, the reader, to be able to pick up on the context clues and glean most of what's going on through subtext. That being said, things will become more clear as the fic progresses. I will also be adding characters and relationships as they come up, so if you don't see something right now, that doesn't mean it will never appear.
> 
> Thanks as always to my lovely beta, AccursedSpatula. I really don't know why she puts up with me and my mad ideas.

“One of these days, we’re gonna find ourselves a dame, Steve.”

Shaking his head and chuckling, Steve looked over at Bucky. They were sitting on the fire escape of their building, legs dangling over the rusted metal as they watched traffic pass by on the street. “ _You’re_ going to find a dame,” Steve corrected gently.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna gonna get married without you.”

“Bucky.” Steve sighed. This was a conversation they’d had many times, and each time Steve felt the familiar swell of exasperation and affection and regret. “We’ve been over this. What woman is going to want _this_?” He gestured to his own body. He was small, thin, weak. As it stood right now, Bucky was the one keeping a roof over their heads. Whatever odd jobs Steve managed to scrounge barely kept them fed; everything else was on Bucky. In a marriage, adding a wife to their lives, Steve would only be a burden, a dead weight dragging the other two down.

“I want that, so I don’t see why any woman in her right mind wouldn’t.”

Steve blushed, but didn’t bat away Bucky’s arm when it wound around him, his hand settling possessively on his hip. “I wouldn’t bring anything to a marriage, Bucky, you know that. I’m not going to be able to get any kind of good job. I won’t be able to provide for a wife and kids.”

“You leave that to me,” Bucky said, leaning closer to nuzzle against Steve’s neck, making him laugh softly at the light contact.

“That’s not fair to you, either. You shouldn’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“But—”

“No.” Bucky’s free hand reached up and grabbed Steve’s jaw, turning his head to face him. “You listen to me, Steve Rogers. I am not leaving you behind. Any dame that doesn’t want my best friend isn’t a dame I want. And if we don’t find one, then it’ll just be you and me, you got that?”

“Bucky....” Bucky always said that, always insisted that he didn’t care about getting married or having a family if it meant losing Steve. And it killed Steve to hear his best friend say that when it was something Steve himself wanted so badly. But he couldn’t deny the warm thrill of pleasure it gave him to know that there was one person who wanted him above all others.

Bucky shook Steve’s head slightly. “You got that? I mean it, Steve. We’ll find ourselves one of those progressive women, one that wants to have a career, and you can stay home, be a house husband. You can paint the walls with your art, and do illustrations for those weird magazines you love.” He bent his head, brushed his lips gently over Steve’s. “And you can take of our sons when they come. Hell, maybe even a daughter if we’re lucky.”

“Bucky...” Steve gasped again, into Bucky’s mouth as he moved in for a deeper kiss. God, he could see it, see himself staying home, keeping their apartment neat and tidy, having dinner waiting on the table for his wife and husband when they got home, being taken to bed by Bucky and the woman who would love them both and give them children.

“And I’ll take care of you,” Bucky insisted. “Both of you, all of you, I swear it. So don’t give me that self-sacrificing crap, okay? I’m not doing this without you.”

“Okay, yeah, all right,” Steve agreed. Kissing him again, Bucky moved his hand down, the width of it nearly spanning Steve’s chest as he rubbed slow circles over Steve’s nipple. “God, Bucky, I....” Steve shuddered in Bucky’s embrace.

“Bed?” Bucky muttered thickly against Steve’s lips.

“Yeah.”

The fumbled their way off their fire escape and back into their tiny apartment, hands never leaving each other. A trail of clothes marked the path to their bedroom until they both tumbled down naked on their bed. Their lovemaking was frantic, harsh breathing and jerky movements until Bucky had Steve pressed down into the bedding, his larger body curled over Steve’s smaller one. Steve groaned as Bucky filled him, pushing in until his hips touched Steve’s ass. His own cock hardened as Bucky slipped a hand beneath him and gently fondled it.

“Imagine it,” Bucky murmured, biting at Steve’s neck. “A dame with us, me buried in you while you slide into her. Or maybe both of us in her? Me and you, filling her up good and tight.”

“Jesus, Bucky,” Steve groaned, pushing back against Bucky. Careful to keep his hold on Steve gentle because of how easily he bruised, Bucky stroked him, pushing him over the edge all too soon, his come dribbling over Bucky’s hand. Then Bucky started to move, Steve laying loose and pliant beneath him. Steve never could last as long as Bucky, no matter what they did, and it always went a little easier if he came first. Unconsciously, he spread his thighs a little wider, letting Bucky settle down on him further, not minding the extra weight, until Bucky came as well, a pleasant warmth deep inside him and his name gasped into his ear.

Bucky pulled out slowly after a few minutes, falling onto his side and pulling Steve into his arms. “Promise,” he murmured as he fell asleep, Steve fondly stroking his cheek.

~*~

They both stared at the draft card, silent and grim in the tiny apartment. “We both knew it was gonna happen,” Bucky muttered. “If we were married, I’d probably get a pass, but—” He broke off with a bitter laugh. “But I guess I’m expendable.”

“Don’t!” Steve snapped. “Don’t go there. You’re not expendable.”

“You know what I mean.” Bucky waved Steve’s words away. “I don’t have a family, so the government...they don’t care what happens to me.”

“When do you need to report?” Steve asked once they’d both gone silent again.

“A month.”

“A month.” Steve pressed a hand to his eyes, legs folding to drop him onto their ratty couch. “That’s not enough time. What am I gonna do without you, Bucky?”

Quickly, Bucky crossed the room to sit next to Steve, wrapping one thick arm around Steve’s narrow shoulders. “Don’t you worry about that,” he said earnestly. “All my paychecks are coming back here to you. I promised you, Steve, I’ll take care of you.”

For a moment, Steve just looked at him, puzzled, and then he laughed, leaning into Bucky’s side. “That’s not what I meant, you idiot. I don’t care about the money, I’ll be fine. Just...be careful, okay?”

“Told you,” Bucky said, “Not leaving you. I’m coming home to you, Steve.”

~*~

They had their first real, explosive fight when Bucky found Steve’s rejection papers in his pocket.

“What the fuck?!” he screamed, throwing the paper marked with its damning “4F” stamped in red at Steve’s feet. “What the fuck were you thinking?!”

“That I don’t want to be left behind!” Steve yelled back, refusing to back down or be ashamed of trying to enlist. “I’ve got just as much right to be over there as anyone!”

“Right?” Bucky gaped at him before growling in frustration. “You idiot, it’s not about ‘right.’ You think I want to go? You think any of us being rounded up and shipped off because it doesn’t matter if we die want to go? With your luck, they’d take you. You’d get killed over there, Steve, and I couldn’t handle that.”

“You think I could handle you getting killed? You’re the only thing I’ve got, Bucky! I can’t lose you. I’d rather be there with you than stuck here, waiting.”

Sagging back and letting the wall support him, Bucky raked a hand through his hair. “You can’t go, Steve,” he said quietly, desperately. “I need to know you’re here, need to know you’re safe and that I have something to come home to. Promise me you’re not going to try again.”

“I can’t do that,” Steve said, and tried not to flinch when Bucky stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. He picked up his rejection papers and threw them in the trash, and tried not to notice how empty his bed was without Bucky when the other man didn’t come home that night.

~*~

Unbelievably, inexplicably, Bucky found a girl willing to go out with them the night before he shipped out. It had to be some small rebellion on her part, thumbing her nose at her fathers to go on a date with someone who was leaving for war the next day, but Steve noticed the way her eyes lingered on the cut of Bucky’s uniform, the way it hugged him in all the right places. He noticed because his eyes followed the same path. And he also noticed the way her gaze turned pitying when she looked at him, the way she held onto Bucky’s arm and made no attempt to reach for his. He knew why, he understood, but it still hurt.

Steve slipped away when the two of them were watching a demonstration at the Stark Expo, figuring to give them some time alone without his presence interfering. And, hey, he might as well try his luck one more time at the recruiting station there.

There, he met Erskine.

When they said goodbye the next morning, he didn’t tell Bucky about the “1A” burning a hole in his pocket.

~*~

Peggy was...Peggy was perfect, Steve decided. She didn’t look at him with pity, smiled at his awkward fumbling attempts at conversation, and was brilliant and beautiful and everything Steve thought he had ever wanted in a woman. That she was in the service—intelligence division, yes, and probably helped along by family and money, but if she didn’t have the skills and smarts, she wouldn’t be there—and was tough and strong and stubborn, and Steve was fairly sure he was falling in love for the second time in his life.

It didn’t change after the serum, either, when he finally had a body he could be proud of, when he knew he could provide for and take care of a family. She didn’t fall all over him or swoon at his feet, she just treated him like she always had.

When he wanted to go to the front and the scientists wanted him to stay so they could study him, she fought for him, doing everything she could to get him where he wanted to be. Where he _needed_ to be. And when he finally did get off a plane somewhere in Europe, she was waiting for him.

And Howard Stark was there as well, and he was amazing. He had Bucky’s dark good looks combined with a sharp sense of humor and a breathtaking brilliance that Steve had never seen before. His enthusiasm was uncontrollable and infectious. It was all Steve could do sometimes just to sit back and watch him work, awed at both how he spoke rapidly and at length about what he was working on and how he never seemed to stop, thinking or planning or building. He might have ribbed Steve for the Captain America persona, but he was also the one to design his suit, to build his shield, to work on a myriad of other gadgets to help keep Steve safe in the field.

He was also the first person since Bucky to kiss him, pressing him up against a workbench late one night, smelling like coffee and cigarettes and cheap beer. He kissed Steve like it was going out of style, like these were his last moment and he wanted to spend them doing nothing but this. And Steve, who’d been kissed by no one— _no one_ —other than Bucky, was a little lost at first. He was just bringing his hands up when Howard pulled away.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered. “You have a fella, I know you do. Just couldn’t help myself. I won’t do it again. Just don’t—”

“Howard,” Steve interrupted gently.

Howard’s expression was wary. “Yeah?”

“You talk too much,” he murmured, reaching forward to shut the other man up.

“Oh, okay,” Howard mumbled against Steve’s lips, and let Steve manhandle him into a dark corner to neck for a while.

Steve couldn’t wait to introduce both of them to Bucky.

~*~

Terror, Steve realized, was a double edged sword. While he walked that fine line, looking for Bucky, hoping and praying and promising anything to find him, he was more alert and aware than he’d even been in his life. But he knew that if he didn’t find Bucky, or worse, found what was _left_ of Bucky, he would fall off that edge and probably never make it back up. He hadn’t been lying to Bucky that night in the apartment. Without him, he had nothing, and he wasn’t willing to offer Peggy a life with someone whose soul had been torn out.

He tried not to think about it as he sat in the back of Howard’s plane, listening as Peggy and Howard gave him the plan. He tried not to think about it as he fell slowly back toward the ground, watching as Howard flew the plane away from enemy anti-aircraft fire, praying that the two of them would make it back safe. And he tried not to think about it as he snuck into the HYDRA base, as he let men out of cells, searching among them desperately, hope dying a little more with every unfamiliar face he saw, as he made his way quickly down a dark hallway chasing down the last chance he had. He didn’t think as he approached the still form strapped to the table, didn’t blink, didn’t even _breathe_ until a pulse jumped weakly beneath his trembling fingers. And then he was too busy getting the man he loved out of that hellhole to fully register the sharp, searing joy he felt until much, much later.

~*~

Bucky liked Peggy. Peggy...was a little unsure about Bucky. It was odd, to have their positions reversed so neatly, but Bucky just laughed. “Any woman who likes you that much will put up with me,” he said, sitting next to Steve and bumping shoulders with him.

“Just...try to maybe not annoy her so much?” Steve asked. “I don’t want to lose either of you.”

Bucky paused, turning to look at Steve thoughtfully. “You really want this, don’t you? The three of us?”

There was more Steve wanted to say, but he just nodded. “I really do. It’s not just about finding any woman willing to have me anymore. I love you, and I love Peggy, and I want us to have that life we talked about when this war is over. I mean, if Peggy’s willing, of course. We haven’t asked, haven’t even talked about it really.”

“Idiot,” Bucky murmured softly, affectionately, throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “She’s willing. You should see the way she looks at you. Trust me, she’ll say yes. And I’ll stop teasing her so much if it bothers you, but I’m pretty sure she responds the way she does because it’s funny to watch you get all flustered. Had a thought, though.”

“Oh?”

“I know we always said it was gonna be me and you and some lucky dame, but...how do you feel about adding a fourth?”

Brows furrowing, Steve pulled back slightly to look at Bucky. “A fourth? Who?”

“Stark. I like him. Little bit of an ego on him, but I figure between the three of us we can knock him down a few pegs.”

Steve started to laugh; he couldn’t help it.

“What’d I miss?” Bucky asked.

“I’ve been wondering how to bring it up,” Steve confessed. “He and I....” Steve trailed off as Bucky’s face darkened slightly, his arm tightening around Steve. “Hey, it was just a few kisses, nothing more, enough to know that I liked it, liked _him_. I wasn’t going to go any further without you.”

“I see.” His voice was flat.

“You’re jealous.” Steve laughed in disbelief. “I can’t believe it. James Barnes, jealous!”

“It’s not funny,” Bucky muttered, letting go of Steve, standing up from the bench they were sitting on and walking away a few feet.

Steve followed him, tugging on Bucky’s arm to make him turn around and look at him. “All right, I’ll stop. It was just something new to me, you know? Now you know how I felt all those years when I was just this scrawny little thing no one wanted.”

“I always wanted you,” Bucky said shortly, glowering at him. “Didn’t matter what you looked like, I wanted _you_.”

“Bucky....” Slowly, carefully, as if Bucky were something fragile, Steve wrapped his arms around him. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky, to have his best friend, to fall in love with him, to find not one but two others to share their lives. “We don’t...don’t have to be with anyone else,” he offered haltingly. He wanted to be with Peggy and Howard, but not at the cost of Bucky. “It could just be you and me, the two of us, if you really don’t want anyone else.”

There was only a brief moment’s pause before Bucky shook his head. “Nah, I don’t want that. I like the others, just having a hard time getting used to sharing.” He took a deep breath. “So the four of us? Living the perfect version of the American Dream?”

“I don’t know about perfect,” Steve chuckled. “None of us are exactly ideal. I mean, can you see Peggy as the demure wife, coddled and taken of by all her husbands? Or Howard going out and working a nine-to-five? You changing diapers?”

“Or you staying home, cooking dinner and doing laundry?” Bucky teased. Steve blushed and turned his head away slightly. “God, you still want that, don’t you? Doesn’t matter what you look like, you still want what we talked about.”

“I do.” Looking down and then back up, he asked softly, “Do you think they’ll mind?”

Bucky just laughed and pulled him in for another kiss.

~*~

They didn’t formalize their arrangement in front of a judge or a minister. There were no contracts to sign, or clauses and compromises spelled out in detail. It was just the four of them in a weather-beaten tent, with a stolen bottle of wine and four battered cups. In unspoken agreement, the other three looked at Steve after he finished pouring the wine and waited for him to speak. “I always wanted to be with Bucky,” Steve said quietly. “Even when we were kids, when I thought about the future, he was always in it. But he’s not the only one I want.” He met Peggy’s and Howard’s eyes deliberately. “We want both of you as well, if you’ll have us.”

“I’m in,” Howard said immediately. “I’d have to be fucking crazy to say no, and I think you’re all a little bit touched in the head if you’re willing to have me. I’m not the easiest person to get along with, and I’m going to drive you all crazy--you know that, right?”

“Yes,” Peggy said dryly. “We know.” Then she looked at all three of them. “Yes,” she said again. “I’ll have you, all of you.” There was enough of a dark promise in her voice to make all three men shiver.

“Then when this war is over, when we go home, we make it official,” Steve said. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” they all said, and then they drained their cups and sealed the agreement with a kiss, each one going to the others until Steve had to pull himself away before they did something they would regret. The front was no place for something like this, too dangerous to risk the consequences of fooling around.

“When we’re home,” he promised.

~*~

Bucky fell.

~*~

Steve almost wished that Howard and Peggy weren’t on the other end of the radio. They shouldn’t have to hear him die.

He was aware that they were both telling him they could find a solution, but Steve knew better. The plane wasn’t going to make it anywhere where they could get to him in time, and he couldn’t risk heading toward any populated areas.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and even though his voice was quiet, they both fell silent. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “that I couldn’t keep my promise to you. Try not to be too mad at me, huh?”

“ _Steve_!” Peggy, sounding closer to tears than Steve had ever heard before. “We can save you!”

“I love you,” he said, ignoring what she said. “Howard?”

“I’m here.”

“Take care of her, please, since Bucky and I can’t.”

“Christ, Steve,” Howard muttered, voice suspiciously thick. “Come back and take care of her— _of us_ —yourself. We need you.”

Everything was white below him. “I wish I could,” he said, allowing himself one last smile. “I really wish I—”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me apologize for the massive length of this chapter. Steve was pretty easy, but Tony required so much more work to get him where I needed him. And because I didn't want to rehash the entire plot of two movies, I skipped a lot of the details involving Iron Man 1 and 2. If you don't see something, then it goes a lot like it did in the films.

Growing up, Tony vowed that if he ever had a family, he wasn’t going to fuck it up the way his parents did. Howard Stark had been a bitter old man by the time Tony came around, and Tony was fairly certain that he’d only married and fathered a child so that he could have someone to carry on the Stark legacy. He certainly never spent any time with Maria or Tony if he could help it, and Tony learned very early on not to bother to try and get his father’s attention, or better yet, his approval.

And his mother.... God, Tony didn’t know why Maria had even married Howard in the first place. He suspected it had to do with the promise of a fat check and life of freedom as long as she gave him a son. It certainly wasn’t to raise and nurture a family for herself. Tony was mostly raised by the household staff, primarily their steadfast butler, Jarvis. Ultimately, he couldn’t blame his mother very much. There were women who wanted nothing to do with marriage and children, and god knew you could never admit that out loud, let alone try to live that way. It was social suicide. If Maria was one of them, and if having Tony was the price of her freedom...well, Tony probably would have taken that deal, too. At least his mother bothered with the social necessities—playing the perfect hostess at Howard’s galas and showing up to the little things in Tony’s life, like his high school graduation and admittance to MIT. Tony couldn’t remember a single event Howard had ever shown up to.

But his father didn’t even try for anything more. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a miserable bastard, he could have found a wife who wanted to be one, who could have given Tony her name—though he doubted it, his father remained a Stark after marrying Maria and wanted a Stark to carry on—could have found another husband to share in that, could have taken some— _any_ —interest in his only child, and then Tony would have had some semblance of a normal family.

There was only one time when Tony pitied his father, when he came close to understanding, and that was when he’d come home late one night at the age of fifteen, to find his father collapsed in his study, sobbing as he clutched a picture frame, a bottle of expensive bourbon half-emptied at his side. Tony had meant to back away, leave his father to his private shame, but Howard had seen him and instead of screaming at him to go, had beckoned him closer. He’d explained to Tony drunkenly through his tears, that he’d the war had cost him his family, that he’d found and fallen in love with three soldiers, but two of them had died and the third had left him, saying there were too many memories for them to try and make it work.

Tony’s sympathy lasted until he realized what his father had said, that Howard considered those lost lovers his family, and not his wife and child. He’d wrestled the picture away from his father, determined to know what the three ghosts, who’d cost him any chance at having a father before he was even born, looked like. The four people in the picture were all young, good-looking and happy, even his father. There was a comfortable familiarity between them, an easiness one saw in happy marriages. But what caught Tony’s eye was the smiling, young, blond man in the picture. Bigger than the other three, larger than life, with pale eyes and hair, stood Captain America.

Shoving the picture frame back into his father’s hands, Tony had stood, suddenly understanding his father’s mad quest to find a man long dead and gone. He had also understood, with painful, bitter clarity, that he’d never stood a chance, not with the ghost of his father’s dead lovers casting a shadow over them, with Captain America always standing at Howard’s shoulder.

Tony hadn’t said anything, just left his father to pass out on the floor. The next morning, Howard didn’t remember and Tony didn’t say anything, and he swore, that day, that he would never do any of this to his family, even if that meant having no family at all.

~*~

One drunken Saturday night in Boston, only seventeen and already in MIT, Tony found the first member of his family.

He was sitting at a table with his friends, ridiculously drunk and eating hot wings, while they made bets and dared each other to see who could pick up who. Tony was feeling cocky and said, “I can get _anyone_.”

“It doesn’t count if you pay them,” Danny muttered.

“Hey!” Tony protested, pointing at his friend with the hand holding his beer, only sloshing it a little. “That was _once_! I mean it, point out anyone. I can nail them.”

His friends put their heads together to confer, and finally pointed out a tall, black man standing at the bar. “Him.”

Tony looked where they were pointing, and his expression fell a little. The man they were pointing to was definitely tall and good-looking, skin a rich chocolate color that stood out in this particular crowd, but his clothes and bearing screamed military of some kind, and those kinds generally didn’t fuck around. He glared at his friends, who looked back at him with innocent expressions. “Fine,” he said shortly, taking one last swallow of his beer before getting to his feet. “You’re each gonna owe me twenty.”

He made his way to the bar on mostly steady feet, sliding his narrow body into the space left open on the man’s left. “Hey,” he said. “Can I buy you a drink?”

The man turned, and yeah, he was even better looking up close. “I’m all set, thanks,” he replied. “Are you sure you’re even old enough to be in here?”

Tony waved the question away. No need to broadcast just how underage he was. “Yeah, I’m good, man. Sure I can’t get you that drink?”

“I’m sure.”

Well. Tony was too drunk to figure out another angle of attack, so he just stood there, flummoxed, while the man watched him with an increasingly worried expression. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine.” Tony waved the concern away. “I just...hey, you feel like helping me out?”

One dark brow rose. “Oh? This should be good.”

“Okay, see, my friends, those assholes sitting in the corner, bet me that I couldn’t pick you up. I bet them that they were wrong, and now if I go back over there alone, I’m gonna owe them some money.”

“And you don’t have it?”

“What? Oh, God, no, of course I have it!” Tony laughed. “I just don’t want them to think I’m some stupid kid who can’t get it done just because I’m younger than them. I—”

Tony’s teeth clicked shut as he realized he’d said too much. Well, fuck. Now Mr. Military Bearing was going to get Tony bounced out of the bar, probably along with his friends, and he’d never live it down.

Next to him, the man fished out his wallet, slapped a bill down on the bar and grabbed Tony’s arm. “Come on.”

“Wait, where are we going?” Tony asked, confused.

“You’re too young to be in here, and way too drunk, and I’m doing you a favor by not getting you thrown out. Plus, you’ll get to collect from your friends.”

“Really?” Tony brightened. “That’s awesome. You’re awesome.”

“Thanks,” the man said tersely, but he was fighting a grin. “Come on, let’s find somewhere to sober you up.”

They ended up in an all-night diner, drinking endless cups of coffee and sampling every pie displayed under glass covers, talking about anything and everything, long rambling conversations that had no end and no beginning and shifted each time a new thought popped into Tony’s head. It had been a long time since anyone just sat and listened to Tony ramble. Most people only wanted him around because they were hoping he’d solve their problems for them, either with his intelligence or by marrying him. After all, the Stark wealth would take care of a lot of things. But the man just sat and let Tony go at it, answering when necessary and listening the rest of the time with a small, indulgent smile on his face.

Finally, as the sun was beginning to light the sky, and Tony lay nearly insensate across a booth, stuffed full of pie and coffee and almost completely sober, he stuck a hand across the table. “Tony Stark,” he introduced himself, waiting for the inevitable recognition.

“James Rhodes,” the man said, taking his hand in a  firm grip. His smile widened slightly, but that was it. No wide-eyed awe or immediate grubbing for something.

“Rhodey,” Tony said expansively, immediately dubbing the man with a new moniker because there was no way someone that cool could be called _James_ , “I think I love you.”

Rhodey shook his head. “I think you’re still drunk.”

“No, seriously,” Tony said sitting up. “I wanna do this again. I mean, you had fun, right? We should definitely do this again.”

Rhodey looked at him hard for a long, long minute. “How old are you, Tony?” he asked softly.

“I don’t see what that has—”

“Tony.”

“Seventeen,” Tony muttered.

Rhodey sighed. “I don’t do kids, Tony.”

“I’m not a kid!” He didn’t think he’d ever been a kid.

“You’re _underage_ ,” Rhodey stressed. “I can’t take that risk. And I know who you are. We do anything and I’m looking at the end of my career.”

Reluctantly, Tony nodded. It wasn’t fair to ask the man to give up his life just because Tony had had fun and wanted some more.

Sighing again, Rhodey flagged down a waitress, asking for a scrap of paper and a pen. He scribbled something down and then slid the paper across the table to Tony, who took it, seeing a phone number and an address. “When you turn eighteen, when you’re legal,” Rhodey said quietly, “you can contact me then if you’re still interested.” The tight smile on his face told Tony that Rhodey doubted that would be the case, but that he was offering meant he had to be interested.

“You serious?” Tony asked.

“Completely.”

“Then you’ll hear from me in about seven months.”

Chuckling, Rhodey shook his head. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

He didn’t believe Tony, not by a long shot, but that was all right. Tony fucked around because it was the only way to get what he wanted without having to make any promises. He didn’t foresee that changing for the next seven months, but after? After, he had a date.

~*~

Tony had the good grace to wait until Rhodey had leave. Showing up on a U.S. Air Force base was probably a bad idea, even he knew that. So, ten months later, the address from the paper long committed to memory, he found himself standing on a porch, ringing a doorbell, and rocking anxiously back and forth on his heels. Rhodey opened the door a minute later, at first frowning in confusion and then eyes widening in surprise. “Holy shit,” he said, “you actually showed up.”

That gave Tony a moment’s pause. “I said I was going to.”

“Yeah, but I....” Rhodey trailed off, but the unspoken ‘didn’t expect you to’ was blatantly obvious.

“Ah.” Tony shoved his hands in his pockets as the awkward silence drew out. “Yeah, I probably should have called first or something. I’ll just go.” He turned to head back down the walk and the black Porsche parked at the curb.

“Hey, wait.” Rhodey’s hand closed around his arm. “I’m being a jerk, you just caught me off guard. Come on in.”

Rhodey let him go, heading back into the house. Tony shut the door behind him. “Coffee?” Rhodey called over his shoulder.

“Sure.”

Tony looked around while Rhodey poured ground coffee and water in the machine. It was a small house, but neat. Quaint, he would call it. The furnishings weren’t new, but they were all cared for. “You live alone?” Tony asked idly.

“Yes. Used to be my mom’s place, but she went to live with her brother’s family in Pennsylvania the year I joined the Air Force. She let me keep the house for when I’m on leave.”

“Nice of her.” There was no mention of fathers, and Tony was tactful enough not to ask. Soon enough the coffee was ready and Rhodey poured them both mugs. They stood, leaning against counters. “So...” Rhodey said slowly. “What did you want to do?”

Tony shook his head, setting the mug down on the counter. “Look, you don’t have to pretend you’re interested, all right? I shouldn’t have just shown up. Thanks for the coffee. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

Quirking his lips in a wry grin, Rhodey rubbed a hand over his buzzed scalp. “Not really much of a challenge there.” Tony laughed in spite of himself, and Rhodey’s grin widened. “Come on, man, you came all the way down here, you really going to leave so soon?”

“Do you really want me to stay or are you fucking with me?”

“Not fucking with you. I had fun that night. We could give it another shot, see how it goes from there.”

“Sounds good.”

They went out, dinner, the movies, just getting to know each other better than they had that one drunken night nearly a year ago. Rhodey didn’t suck up to Tony, which was a nice change, and he let Tony ramble in the way that seemed to annoy everyone else. He was also surprisingly daring for a military man, and Tony was starting to see the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Tony didn’t get Rhodey into bed that first night, nor the night after. He teased, kissing Tony and letting him touch, but ultimately pulling away before it went any further. By the fourth night, Tony was fed up with it, and as soon as they stumbled out of the club, he hailed a taxi, giving his hotel as the address. For the entire ride, he kept his lips glued to Rhodey because if Rhodey couldn’t talk, then he couldn’t object. He kept it up on the elevator up to the penthouse and as soon as they were in the door, he shoved Rhodey up against the wall.

“No more,” he growled. “you’re either going to fuck me or we’re both going home alone.”

“Well, in that case,” Rhodey drawled, and quite neatly reversed their positions, Tony’s back now pressed against the wall, “I think I’m going to fuck you.”

~*~

“When’s your next leave?” Tony asked, several days later, lying naked in the bed while Rhodey tugged his jeans on.

“Don’t know yet.”

“Well, call me.” Tony yawned and rolled onto his side. “I’ll have a car come pick you up.”

“Are you serious?”

“Completely. I like you.” He waved a hand lazily. “Stick with me, I’ll take you places.”

Rhodey warm laughter rolled over him, making Tony feel oddly content. “I’ll hold you to that. I gotta get back, though. You gonna be all right to get home?”

“I’ll be fine. Go. See you next time.”

“Bye, Tony.”

~*~

It was early on a Saturday morning when Tony head the sound of Rhodey’s voice calling him out of sleep. He sat up, rubbing his eyes blearily, just as Rhodey opened the door to his bedroom. His eyes flitted over Tony for the moment before focusing on the bed next to him. Tony looked down, too, freezing when he saw the blond woman—Tiffany?—sleeping next to him, and remembered last night.

“Shit,” he said, and looked back up at Rhodey. But Rhodey just grinned and shook his head.

“I’ll go make breakfast,” he said. “Please shower before you come down.”

An hour later, Tiffany shoved hastily out the door and Tony freshly showered, he headed for the kitchen, following the unmistakable scent of coffee and bacon. “You’re awesome,” Tony said fervently, wrapping both hands around a large mug of coffee as Rhodey slid a full plate in front of him.

“Mhmm,” Rhodey hummed, and didn’t say anything else until Tony had cleaned his plate.

“About this morning,” Tony began. “I can explain.”

“Really?” Rhodey lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think I’m mad?”

Tony froze. They hadn’t said they were exclusive, but most people assumed that the person they were fucking wouldn’t go around fucking other people. “Maybe?”

With a sigh, Rhodey set his mug down. “Tony, with my career, I’m very rarely here. If you want to sleep with other people, hell, date other people, I don’t mind. I’d rather go to work knowing you’re happy than worry everyday that you’re miserable because you feel you can’t be you.”

“So you don’t mind me being with other people? Really?”

“As long as you’re safe and still make time for me, no, I don’t mind.”

“Oh.” Tony stared down at his empty plate, wondering how exactly he’d gotten so lucky. His best friend and maybe-boyfriend was saying it was okay for him to do what he wanted. He looked up at Rhodey, at the easy acceptance the other man had toward this, and wondered if _he_ would be so accepting if their roles were reversed. “So how long are you here for?”

“A week.”

Pushing back from the table, Tony stood, walked around to Rhodey’s seat and straddled him when he leaned back, sitting down in Rhodey’s lap. “Well then, we don’t have any time to waste.”

~*~

When Tony’s parents were killed in a car accident, Rhodey somehow managed emergency leave to be with Tony. He sat with Tony while lawyers droned on and on, held his hand during the funeral when people who had no idea what Howard and Maria were really liked waxed lyrical on all their wonderful qualities, stood by him at the gravesite where he and Obie were the only “family,” and then later, much later, watched Tony while he got quietly drunk.

Tony didn’t mourn his parents, not really. He couldn’t. There was nothing between to be mourned. But he mourned the loss of what should have been, bitterness and anger roiling over what he’d been cheated out of. And when Rhodey stripped him down and put him to bed, Tony grabbed his wrist and refused to let go until Rhodey slid under the sheets with him. Then, with his face buried in Rhodey’s shoulder, he cried silently.

~*~

Tony sat in the chair at the head of the table, spinning idly back and forth as he watched Pepper lay out documents at each seat for the board members who would be arriving shortly. With the light streaming in from the wall of windows, her hair and skin glowed, bringing out the coppery red of her hair, the sharp green glint of her eyes. She was, Tony reflected, utterly lovely. He remembered when she’d first come in to apply for the position as his personal assistant, fresh out of college, chin held high, prepared to be rejected for being too young, too green, and a woman to boot. She’d introduced herself as Virginia.

But to Tony, she’d been a fresh breath of air, something bright and beautiful, so different from all the stuffed suits and sombre demeanors of everyone else he worked with. He’d wanted to hire her from the first moment, simply for being so different, so daring, and so he had, barely five minutes into the interview, shocking everyone, Pepper included, and most of all himself.

For the first month, she’d been skittish, afraid to assert herself, and Tony had wondered where that fire he saw had gone. Until one day, he exasperated her so much that she’d snapped and told him in no uncertain terms that he was going to sign the documents in front of him, show up at the shareholder’s meeting and go to that charity dinner or she would hound him every waking moment until he did.

Tony had just grinned, said, “Sure thing, Pepper,” and signed the papers. And that had been that.

Three years later, Tony couldn’t imagine life without her. She was his right hand, his keeper, his conscience. And he knew that someday, she would leave him, would go and find herself men to treat her like the precious thing she was. Oh, she might still work for Tony, but she wouldn’t be _his_ anymore. She’d go back to being Virginia Potts, Personal Assistant, and Pepper would be no more.

He found he didn’t like that idea very much.

Pepper placed the last packet down. “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

“Have dinner with me,” he said.

She blinked at him, momentarily lost for words, a rare sight. Then she looked around, as if she was expecting someone else to be standing there. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Have dinner with me,” he repeated.

Her expression shifted into something he couldn’t quite describe, and Tony wondered if he’d fucked everything all up.

“Mr. Stark,” she began, then shook her head minutely. “ _Tony_. I’m flattered, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” He stopped moving his chair back and forth and fixed her with an earnest look.

“It wouldn’t be proper....”

“Just dinner, Pep,” he said softly. “That’s all I’m asking, just dinner. Give me a chance.”

She bit her lip. “I like my job, Tony. As frustrating as you can be, it’s never dull around you. And I’m not ready to give that up.”

“You don’t have to!” he assured her quickly. “I would never take that from you, _never_. You have my word. Have dinner with me tonight. Please?”

Finally, still looking unsure, she nodded, and Tony grinned. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

~*~

Dinner, for all Pepper’s initial reluctance, had gone well, as it did the next several times. Sometimes they went out, sometimes they ate take-out on Tony’s couch and watched old movies. It was different than when they were working. Pepper was more willing to tease, willing to play along with Tony’s outrageousness, and Tony discovered that Pepper was absolutely breathtaking when she laughed so hard she cried. If he had thought he couldn’t lose her before, he was even more convinced of it now. He couldn’t let her go, not ever. He just had to find a way to keep her.

He called Rhodey a few days later. “What’s up, Tony?” he asked, and Tony immediately relaxed upon hearing his voice. Solid, dependable Rhodey wouldn’t let Tony go astray.

“Pepper,” Tony blurted.

There was a pause. “What about Pepper?”

“I think I love her.”

There was a longer pause and Tony held his breath, waiting. “Have you told her that yet?”

“No, of course not. I had to talk to you first.”

“You don’t have to ask me for permission.”

“Yeah, I kinda do. I really kinda do.”

There was yet another, even longer pause, and Tony really wished Rhodey would stop doing that when Rhodey asked softly, “Tony? Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Yes?”

“Well, that’s nice and confidant.”

“No! I mean, yes, yeah, I’m...asking.”

“Is this what you want?”

“I want my family,” Tony said, terrified at the honesty of his response, shocked that he was actually admitting this out loud. They had never talked about this, about what exactly their relationship was. When Rhodey was in town, it was just the two of them, but as soon as work called him away again, Tony was out with anyone who would have him. Rhodey had point blank said that he didn’t care, that he wasn’t going to be around and Tony should feel free to do what he wanted and with who. Never before had Tony had cause to question that, but now, talking to Rhodey, he wondered if he should he tried to be a little more faithful, or at least more discreet. “You and Pep, you’re my family. I know...I know I’m not really husband material. I’ve fucked around a lot, and I suck at relationships, and I’m never going to remember anniversaries and birthdays and you could do so much better than me, but I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me, Tony,” Rhodey said quietly.

“Even if I want Pepper, too?”

“What would you do if I said no?”

Tony froze, his mind blank, heart stuttering in his chest. If Rhodey said no...how was he supposed to choose? How was he supposed to choose one half of his heart over the other? And fuck that sappy, sentimental bullshit, it was true. Tony was smart enough to know that anything good he did in his life was for the benefit of Rhodey and Pepper, not himself.

“Tony?”

Somehow, Tony had ended up sitting on the floor, back pressed against the wall. He felt sick and his chest felt tight. “Don’t make me choose, Rhodey,” he whispered, voice unrecognizable, high and thin and panicked. “Please, god, because I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m _sorry_ , but I can’t. I think I’d rather die than have to give one of you up for the other. Fuck, I can’t—”

“Tony!” Rhodey’s voice calling urgently pulled him out of his misery. “Tony, no, that’s not what I’m asking you to do! Calm down! Just breathe and listen to me.” On the other end of the line, Rhodey took several deep breaths, letting them out slowly, Tony copying him instinctively, feeling the panic recede.

“I’m not asking you to choose. I would _never_ ask you to choose, okay? I just wanted you to be sure this was what you wanted. I’m sorry I made you panic; I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.” He cleared his throat. “But you need to go and have a talk with Pepper now. Whatever you decide, Tony, is fine with me. If you want it to be all three of us, then yes. If you want it to be just her, then yes. I’m not around enough to give you what you need, so I can’t tell you what to do now. But whatever you want...I want it, too.”

“You’re sure?”

Rhodey chuckled, the sound warm and fond. “I’m sure.”

Tony closed his eyes, tipping his head back to rest against the wall. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem.”

“And, Rhodey?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you,” Tony whispered, then held his breath. He’d never actually said words to Rhodey before, always afraid that he wouldn’t hear them in return.

“I love you, too, you son of a bitch. Now go talk to Pepper.”

Tony hung up the phone and sat for a few moments longer in silence before laughing suddenly and getting to his feet.

~*~

“You’re quiet tonight,” Pepper commented, poking her fork idly at the last few bites of cheesecake on her plate. “Is something wrong?”

“Hm? What? Oh, no. Nothing’s wrong. Just...thinking.”

“Okay....” Clearly doubting him, but not willing to call him out on it in the middle of a restaurant, Pepper took another bite of her cheesecake and then set her fork down.

“All set?” Tony asked immediately. She nodded.

“Good.”

He waved for the check, paid quickly, and then ushered her out the door, where Happy was waiting with the car. The drive back home was silent, Pepper shooting him concerned glances from the corner of her eye. She waited until they were in the penthouse before turning to him. “All right, now you’re going to tell me what’s bothering you.”

Tony looked at her, and even as annoyed and exasperated as she was, she was beautiful. He had to do this, and had to do this right. “We’ve...been good together, right? I mean, you make sure I’m doing what I’m supposed to, and keep me on track, and I can’t imagine not having you keeping me together.”

“Tony....” There was something terribly heartbreaking and pitying in her face and Tony rushed on because he couldn’t stand for her to shoot him down before he’d even gotten started.

“I know I’m a fuck up. I know you’ve had to clean me up far too many times, whether I’m coming off a bender or been on a four day binge in the lab, but I need you, Pep.” From the way her expression tightened, that was the wrong thing to say and he kicked himself. “I don’t mean to clean up my messes! I need _you_. I need you and your brilliance and your caring and the way you make me feel when you’re around, even when we both know I’ve screwed up.”

He fumbled the small box out of his pocket, opened it and held it out to her. “Marry me?”

Pepper didn’t take the box. She looked at him and bit her lip. “Tony, I can’t.”

“Why not? Did I misread this?” He gestured between the two of them, trying not to look or sound desperate. “You enjoy being with me, right?”

“It’s not just what I want. What about Rhodey?” she asked softly.

“What about Rhodey?” Tony repeated, blankly, before realization hit. “Oh! Already talked to him about it.”

“And?”

“He’s fine with it. He said...he said whatever you, we decided would be fine.”

Pepper still looked unsure and she still hadn’t taken the box with the ring, but she did look at it closer, at the three bands that interlocked together. She pursed her lips and took the box from his hand. “I never expected to marry just one person,” she said quietly, “but I don’t know Rhodey very well. I know he’s your best friend, but we haven’t spent much time together.”

“Do you want to have a chance to get to know him? Because I can fly him up here. But trust me, Pep, he’s great. He’s so much better than me. You’re going to love him.”

She nodded slowly. “I’d like to get a chance to sit down alone with him, talk about some things. But, Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking about yourself that way. Stop trying to make it seem like I’m doing some noble sacrifice if I marry you. If I say yes, it’s because I love you, not because I feel sorry for you. So stop, all right?”

“Yeah, okay. So, you want me to get Rhodey up here?”

“The next time he has leave. Don’t you dare pull him away early, got it? As for these....” She closed the box with the rings gently, but instead of handing them to Tony, slipped them into her purse. “I’ll hold onto them for now.”

That was a promising sign. Tony nodded quickly. “That’s fine. I’ll talk to Rhodey, see when he can get a few days free.”

~*~

They didn’t mention it again, not for the month it took for Rhodey to get official time off. Tony had his jet waiting for him, and Happy waiting to drive him to the penthouse. He and Tony said hello very quickly, and then Rhodey and Pepper were off to go figure things out.

The two hours that Pepper and Rhodey were out at lunch were the longest two hours of Tony’s life. He paced back and forth, unable to work, unable to concentrate, knowing that the two most important people in his life were deciding how happy he was going to get to be. They were friends, yes, and they got along well, but neither had ever indicated any desire for more than. Would they be able to overcome that to make this a real marriage? Or would they just share Tony between them, never coming together themselves? Tony wanted the former, but he could live with the latter if it meant he got to keep both of them.

He was so preoccupied that he didn’t hear their car, didn’t realize they were back until  the front door open and he heard them walk in. Nearly dropping the umpteenth cup of coffee he was drinking, he set it hastily down on the kitchen counter and raced out to meet them. He stuttered to a stop in the foyer, looking at them near the door as they looked back at him. For several long moments, no one moved or spoke. And then Pepper and Rhodey looked at each other, and by some unspoken agreement, each held out an arm to him. The light reflected off the rings on their fingers. He went without hesitation, pulling them close and letting them wrap him up, all three embracing together.

The wedding was small and private, just Pepper’s and Rhodey’s families and Obie. They held it in Malibu, on the beach, with security and Tony’s own inventions making sure _no one_ would be able to interrupt and exploit this. The press could have him all they wanted, but they weren’t getting this day.

Tony wore a tux, Rhodey wore his dress blues, and Pepper was flawless in a simple lace gown. They flanked her, one to either side, and exchanged vows in a short, simple ceremony. Afterwards they ate too much cake, drank too much champagne, and Tony danced with Pepper, and Pepper danced with Rhodey, and then she laughingly pushed the two of them together, smiling widely as they fumbled their way through the obligatory first dance.

Much later that night, after the guests had left, they found themselves upstairs in the lavish master bedroom, tumbling down onto the bed together. They exchanged kisses and caresses until Tony pulled away slightly, laughing a little nervously as he asked, “So how do we do this?”

“It’s pretty simple,” Rhodey drawled. “Pretty sure you’ve had plenty of practice.”

Tony punched him lightly on the arm. “I meant how do we want to do this? We could put one of us in the middle or take turns.” Looking over at Pepper, he said, “I think you should decide. Rhodey and I have been together, but this is your first night with either of us. What do you want?”

Pepper sat up, one strap of her gown falling off her shoulder. She looked at Rhodey, who nodded firmly. “We want you between us, Tony.”

It was said so simply, so easily. Tony closed his eyes for a moment, savoring how perfect the moment was. Then he opened his eyes and grinned crookedly at his wife and husband. “I think this will go much better if we’re all naked.”

They laughed and giggled their way through removing their clothes, thousands of dollars worth of garments tossed to the floor in untidy piles The laughs and giggles changed to gasps and breathy sighs and little pleased noises as they touched and explored, Pepper’s body being as new to them and theirs were to her. Tony had always thought his wedding night would be rushed, a frantic meeting of bodies like so many of his flings, but this was slower, more languid. They took their time, being careful because how they felt mattered for more than just the next few hours.

When they grew too passionate for the foreplay, Pepper pulled Tony to her, laying back, her thighs gripping his hips as her body welcomed his. Tony thrust deep, groaning at the feel of Pepper around him, and then held still while Rhodey finished preparing him. When Rhodey thrust into him, the movement rocked Pepper as well, causing her to moan, and Tony leaned down to lick the sound from her lips. It took a minute to establish a rhythm, but when they did....

Tony didn’t bother to hide his enjoyment, with either his body or his voice. His hips rolled of their own accord, seeking sensation and pleasure with each movement. He’d have been happy for Pepper and Rhodey to just stay still, letting Tony fuck both of them, but they weren’t. They moved against him, surrounding and filling him so completely that there was no way to tell where he ended and they began. And when Rhodey reached around to cup one of Pepper’s breasts, the sight of dark skin against pale, of knowing that they were his now, and that they wanted him too, forever, was enough to send him over.

His muscles went taut as he spilled helplessly within Pepper, catching himself on his elbows so that he didn’t fall on her. They held still, letting him finish, and then because they hadn’t come, began moving again. It was too much and he groaned, but Pepper shushed him, wrapping one arm around his neck to pull him down for a kiss, and the other catching one of his hands and guiding it between her legs. His fingers felt fat and clumsy at first, but as his mind cleared, he devoted himself to bringing her pleasure. On his hips, Rhodey’s hands were hot and hard, gripping tightly as his thrusts increased in tempo and force. Tony didn’t quite bring them off at the same time, but it was close, Rhodey’s hips stuttering before slamming into Tony hard just as Pepper’s cries faded.

They fell down to the bed, collapsing against each other in a sticky, sweaty, tangled mess. And Tony didn’t care about how gross everything was going to feel in the morning because this was perfect.

~*~

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice called from the bathroom, but it sounded uncertain, maybe even a little frightened. Tony was on his feet, heading toward her before he was even really awake.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Pepper was sitting on the closed toilet, wearing one of Tony’s t-shirts. In her hands, she held a small white plastic stick. She held it up. Tony frowned at it for a moment. “What is that?”

Pepper sighed. “It’s a pregnancy test.”

“A pregnancy test? Why are you—oh my god.” Tony snatched it from her hands. “Two lines? What does two lines mean?”

“It’s means I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant.” Tony blinked unbelievingly at the stick and then at Pepper and then back again. Pregnant? Pepper was pregnant? “You’re sure?”

“As sure as I can be until I go to a doctor.”

It didn’t seem real, and Tony couldn’t stop staring at the two pink lines that meant his entire life was going to change.

“Tony? Say something?”

Tony looked at Pepper, biting her lip, eyes wide and huge and looking young and scared. “I’m going to be a father?”

“Yes, Tony, you’re going to be a father.”

He started to smile, and it grew so big his face hurt. Pepper’s lips twitched, copying his expression, and then they were hugging on the bathroom floor, laughing and giggling as Tony laid one hand over Pepper’s still-flat stomach. “Do you know who?” he finally asked.

Pepper shook her head. “No. Does it matter?”

“No,’ Tony said instantly, realizing the moment he said it that it was true. It didn’t matter who contributed the other genetic half, Rhodey and he would both be fathers to it.

They called Rhodey later that day, laughing as he went through his own moments of shock. He asked if they needed anything, but Tony said no, already promising to take Pepper to every doctor’s visit, a vow which was greeted by loving, but undeniable skepticism. Tony bristled slightly that they didn’t think he could responsible for that, but Pepper laid a hand on his cheek. “I know you’ll try, Tony, but I don’t expect you to make every appointment, just the important ones. I’m a big girl, I can visit the doctor’s on my own.”

Slightly mollified—but still determined to prove that he would remember the appointments—Tony promised to keep Rhodey apprised, and Rhodey said he’d begin looking into a transfer to a base closer to home.

~*~

Over the course of the next eight months, Tony did miss some appointments, but he remembered far more than he forgot, something which never failed to delight Pepper, even if he did rush in late sometimes. They decided to learn the baby’s sex—a boy, which was no great surprise—and then they began thinking about names. They agreed to pick two names; one if the baby were biologically Tony’s and one if he were Rhodey’s. Tony didn’t know what name to pick, and he didn’t ask what Pepper and Rhodey had decided. He read the lists on baby names, had the newly installed JARVIS prototype help him sort through names that sounded good with “Potts.”

“You should probably look for one that sounds good with ‘Stark,’” Pepper said quietly from the door. Tony gave her a confused look.

“But it’s your child,” he said.

Pepper shrugged, walking further into the workshop, one hand resting on the swell of her stomach. Tony would never, _ever_ say it outloud to her, but he thought the waddle she walked with now was adorable. “Neither you nor Rhodey took my name—which I agree with, by the way—and if you both have children they’ll be easy to tell apart. I don’t need a name to know they’re mine, Tony. If it’s your son, name him Stark.”

“We could hyphenate?” he offered.

Pepper shuddered. “Potts-Stark or Stark-Potts both sound horrible. No thank you. If we have a girl, she can be a Potts, but the boys can be Starks and Rhodes.”

Tony frowned, looking at his list, already mentally going through it again and throwing out names that wouldn’t work. “You’re sure?”

“Positive. Now come on. You can finish this another day. I want to go to bed and I’d like you to come with me.”

“All right.” Tony cleared the screen quickly, and then swept Pepper up in his arms, eliciting a little shriek of surprise.

~*~

When Pepper went into labor in New York, Tony was in Los Angeles and Rhodey was in Washington, D.C. Despite being further away, Tony got to the hospital before Rhodey, by sole virtue of walking out of the meeting he was in and hopping on board his private jet. Rhodey arrived not too long after. After all, being the husband of Tony Stark did have some advantages.

They both made it in plenty of time, which was apparently too much time for Pepper, because she ordered them to both go and amuse themselves somewhere else until a nurse came and got them. They ended up in a waiting room, exchanging brief bits of conversation and much longer periods of simply waiting in silence, looking at the door. During one lull, some six hours after Pepper sent them away, Tony cleared his throat.

“Hey, Rhodey?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t let me fuck this up.” Rhodey started to protest, but Tony shook his head. “No, listen. When it comes to computers and technology and weapons, I’m fine. But kids?” He raked a hand through his hair. “I have no idea. My parents certainly didn’t know what the fuck they were doing, and I don’t want to do the same thing to my kid. I know I’m gonna make mistakes, just trying to keep me from making the big ones.”

A hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing tightly. “I grew up without any fathers, too, remember?” Tony nodded. Rhodey had told him the story once about how his fathers had been killed, victims of a robbery gone wrong. “I don’t know what I’m doing either, but we’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. And we have Pepper. If she needs to, she’ll kick our asses. You’ll be fine.”

“Right.” Tony didn’t really believe him, but he didn’t get much further because at that moment a nurse came in to tell them they were needed in the delivery room.

They were in time to each grab one of Pepper’s hands, letting her squeeze them as she pushed through the final stage of labor. There was a moment of silence before a loud cry cut through the air, and then the doctor was placing a screaming, flailing bundle in Pepper’s arms. It was easy to tell whose son he was. His skin might not be as dark as Rhodey’s—more of a coffee-with-cream than straight black—but the paternity was undoubtable. Tony watched as Rhodey touched the baby’s cheek and jaw, battling the conflicting emotions of disappointment and relief—because he always thought Pepper and Rhodey would make great children.

Then Pepper was moving the baby over to his side, a wide, tired smile on her face. “Say hello to your son, Tony,” she murmured.

“Hey, little guy,” Tony said, reaching out hesitantly to touch the boy’s soft skin. “Does he, uh, have a name?”

“Joshua Rhodes,” Pepper said, and Tony nodded. Joshua, he liked it, knew it was the name of Rhodey’s uncle who had stepped in to help his mother when her husbands died.

He wanted to say more, but couldn’t think of anything, and then the nurses were ushering them out so they could get Pepper and Joshua cleaned up. Tony and Rhodey didn’t say anything, just threw an arm across each other’s shoulders, and went back to the couch in the waiting area.

~*~

Joshua changed them all, but especially Tony, for the better. And with Rhodey unable to be home as often, the responsibility to help Pepper fell to Tony. It wasn’t that Tony appreciated the sound of a crying baby, but he found he didn’t mind changing diapers and feeding him bottles when he was up anyway, and Pepper’s grateful smile as she curled back under the covers was worth it. And while he still spend way too much time in the lab, he made it work, like taking Joshua and building a rocker so Tony could keep an eye on him in the lab while Pepper worked. When Joshua started crawling, he put DUM-E on baby duty, following the boy around, ready to alert Tony at a moment’s notice.

He was there when Joshua took his first tottering steps into Pepper’s arms, and had it recorded to video and sent to Rhodey along with one of his new, prototype laptops to watch it on. And while he wasn’t so good at patching up boo-boos, or figuring out what was wrong when Joshua started crying for no reason, he took ridiculous delight in making the kid laugh.

He thought things were going pretty good. Rhodey was home more often now, Joshua was talking in mostly full sentences, and they were looking for pre-schools when Pepper wandered into the lab one day and set something on the workbench in front of Tony. It took only a second this time around for him to understand the importance of the cheap plastic stick with its two lines, and in the midst of swinging Pepper in a circle, Joshua came up and said he wanted to spin, too, something Tony was only too happy to do.

~*~

This time around, Rhodey went with Pepper to appointments when he could, and all three were a whole lot less nervous. They knew what to expect and Pepper had both her husbands to dote on her, and their son who seemed fascinated that he had a brother growing in her tummy.

Tony had grown so used to seeing Joshua that when doctor laid their second son in Pepper’s arm, he almost didn’t recognize the squirming, very pink baby. “He’s mine,” he whispered unbelievingly, and then looked across at Rhodey, stricken that he’d uttered that.

Rhodey just laughed, because even though they were both Joshua’s fathers, Joshua was his and Tony had never tried to take that from him. “Yes, Tony, he’s yours,” Rhodey answered patiently. “And can I know this future genius’ name?”

“Ethan,” Tony said quietly, and then touched the wisps of dark hair on Ethan’s head reverently. Oh god, he’d done this. He had a child, a son, who was so unformed and vulnerable, and all he could think of was _how badly his father had messed this up_.

“Tony,” Rhodey said quietly, catching his attention, “it’s just like Josh, the exact same. It’s no different. You’re going to be fine.”

Joshua was entranced by his new little brother, and wanted to carry him around wherever he went. That was prevented by gently explaining that babies weren’t dolls, and Joshua couldn’t carry Ethan around, but he could bring what he wanted to show to Ethan. That mollified their older son, and he proceeded to show Ethan every single thing that he could pick up that wasn’t nailed down.

And things were...good, Tony realized one day. He had a home and family who loved him and accepted him and there was nothing he would ever change about their often crazy and hectic lives.

~*~

Even after waking up in the cave, coming to in an unbelievable amount of pain and having to deal with the horror of having a hole in his chest and being wired to a car battery, all Tony could think of was Rhodey. His husband hadn’t been in the “Funvee,” but Tony had no idea how close behind his humvee had been following. He had no way of knowing if Rhodey had been caught in the attack as well, or if he had still been safely back at the demonstration site when it happened.

Jesus, if Rhodey were dead.... He couldn’t think about, couldn’t contemplate the complete horror of the thought, or how he was going to tell Pepper he got her husband killed, or Joshua and Ethan how he got their father killed.  No, Rhodey was _fine_. He had to be fine so that Tony could focus on getting out of this godforsaken hellhole.

For weeks he worked with Yinsen’s help, first to create a miniature arc reactor to replace the battery—something he would have once considered impossible, but necessity was the mother of all invention—and to figure out a way to both keep Stark weapons out of the terrorists hands and find a way to escape.

Tony learned a lot about Yinsen as they worked, most importantly that the man had a family he was desperate to see again. He came from an area that still held to his people’s old beliefs—his family was more of a clan than the smaller marriages common in the West. He had several wives and many more husbands, and they lived and worked together under the watchful eye of the matriarchs. That was too many people for Tony, who couldn’t imagine being tied to so many people, _responsible_ to so many people, but he couldn’t deny the affection Yinsen obviously had for all of them. And talking about how they kept parentage straight while they were working on the arc reactor and suit—turns out, each wife spent a month with a particular husband, and if she didn’t get pregnant, went to another—was a distraction Tony desperately needed so that he could concentrate.

And when they finished, and when the time came to escape, Tony was horrified to watch Yinsen sacrifice himself. And more horrified to learn that that had been the plan all along, that Yinsen’s clan had been slaughtered years ago, down to the last man, woman and child. Tony closed Yinsen’s dead eyes, silently asking for forgiveness and swearing that if he made it out alive, he was going to find a way to stop this.

The armor got him out of the cave and out into the desert. At that point, as a smoldering wreck, it wasn’t much good to him. Without supplies and water, he was probably going to die, but at least the bastards hadn’t killed him. At least his death was as close to being on his own terms as possible. At least...at least his corpse would have some slim chance at being found.

Rhodey found him about a day and a half later, still at _least_ one full day from being a corpse, Tony reassured him hoarsely. Rhodey didn’t hit him, but the desperate hug he wrapped him in was enough to shut him up.

~*~

Pepper was waiting in the limo when Rhodey helped Tony inside. One look at her pale, drawn face made Tony’s heart thump painfully in his chest and he held out his arms to her. She was in them in an instant, careful, so careful not to bang into his chest that he knew Rhodey had told her.

When they got back to the tower, Joshua and Ethan were waiting, and though they didn’t cry, they did hold Tony very, very tightly. For a long time, they just sat on the couch, both boys clinging to his side, nearly crawling into his lap, even though they were both too old for it, and in better times would be horrified to be seen doing it. While they did that, Happy ordered food, and by the time the boys pulled away, there was pizza and cheeseburgers and fried chicken and Coke and ice cream aplenty, and they gorged themselves, using the guise of food to apply a mask of normalcy.

Joshua and Ethan fell asleep early, and they left them passed out on the couch, covered with blankets, with an order to JARVIS to alert them if the boys awoke during the night. Then Pepper and Rhodey took Tony upstairs to their bedroom and carefully undressed him, leaving his undershirt on when he flinched away. Even more carefully, they bundled him into bed, Pepper resting in the circle of his arms, Rhodey a shield along his back, both of them warm, reassuring weights telling him that he was home, he was with his family, he was _safe_.

~*~

“You’d do this to your family?” Obie rumbled from inside the remains of his massive, copycat suit, disaster spread around them on the roof of Stark Industries.

“You’re not my fucking family, and I won’t let you hurt them anymore,” Tony said, and then, into his suit’s mic, he shouted, “Pepper, now!”

~*~

Blood toxicity: 46%

Tony stared at the damning red letters of the readout, unable to deny the truth any longer. He was dying, and all his stopgap measures had failed or were no longer working.

“JARVIS,” he said quietly, “assuming I continue all of my countermeasures for the palladium poisoning, how long do I have?”

There was an uncharacteristic pause from the AI. “I calculate six more weeks until your major organs begin to shut down, sir. Eight weeks before total system failure.”

Tony nodded, looking at the digital model of his body projected on the screen in front of him, the black lines of the palladium poisoning spreading through it like a cancer. Two months. He had two months before he’d be dead.

He knew his behavior over the last few months had been worrying his family. Pepper kept prodding at him to tell her what was wrong, Rhodey outright demanding that Tony knock it off. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell them the truth yet...but he was going to have to. He was almost out of time; he couldn’t hide this any longer. He knew his family would be taken care of. He’d made Pepper the CEO months ago because he was afraid this was going to happen, and she didn’t need to be stepping into that role just days after his death. Besides, she was a better CEO than he ever was, and she’d have Natalie to help her through the most difficult days. And Rhodey would be fine. He was tough, he had the Air Force to focus on.

But the boys.... Tony closed his eyes and pressed a closed fist against his mouth. Fuck, the boys. They knew something was wrong, too, and telling them was going to be a death all by itself.

He looked at the projection again. Six weeks. He still had six good weeks. They could pull the boys out of school, spend what time he had left together. Maybe in Malibu. If he had to die, the beach was as good a place as any. Tony nodded. He’d give himself a couple more days, give himself time to finish the destruction program JARVIS would employ against his programs and the suits, and then he’d tell them.

~*~

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony looked down from where he was lounging on the roof, to see a tall, black man in a long leather coat and with an eye patch glaring up at him. The last morning he had before he ripped apart his family’s happiness with his own two hands, and tall, dark and angry had to ruin it. “What?”

“Could you come down here? We need to talk.”

Sighing, figuring he little enough to lose, Tony flew down, the box of donuts tucked under one arm, and clanked into the small diner behind the man in the leather coat. They sat in a booth, the seat groaning under the weight of the suit, and Tony cocked a brow. “I don’t have a lot a time here, so you’d better make it quick.”

“That’s what I’m here about, actually.”

There was a sudden sharp, stabbing pain in his neck, and Tony jerked away from it, clapping an armored hand against the injured spot. “What the hell?!” He saw who had stabbed him and both brows shot up. “Natalie?!”

“Natasha, actually,” she answered coolly, tucking the small syringe she’d stuck him with back into her belt. “Agent Natasha Romanoff.”

“Agent Romanoff’s one of our best,” the man said.

“What the fuck did you do to me?”

“Something that will help. For a while, at least. Lithium dioxide. It counteracts the effects of palladium poisoning.”

Tony went very, very still. “How do you know about that?”

“There’s not much we don’t know.” The man paused, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers. “I’m Director Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D.? The same organization that that Agent Coulson’s from?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“You don’t need to know that right now. What you need to focus on is finding a solution to your problem. The lithium dioxide is only a temporary solution. It holds the poisoning at bay, but doesn’t get rid of it, and eventually the palladium will overpower it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m screwed then. I’ve already tried everything I know. There’s nothing else that will power the arc reactors.”

“Not everything.” Fury sat back. “I’m having some things delivered to your home. They should prove...enlightening.”

And with that, Fury stood and swept out the doors with Natalie, Natasha, whatever her name was. following in his wake. Tony sat at the booth, staring into space for a moment longer before he levered himself out and up, and went to go see what the hell was going on.

~*~

Three days later, one bottle of whiskey smashed against the wall after hearing his father apologize for fucking up being a father, and a new element re-discovered, Tony was looking at the fading lines of the palladium poisoning. It would take a little while to completely clear his system, but he was no longer dying.

When Natasha said Fury wanted to see him again, he went without much of a protest. And when Tony sat down across from him, Fury slid a file stamped “CONFIDENTIAL” across the table to him. “Mr. Stark, I’d like to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative.”

~*~

“I want you to answer one question for me.”

“Why did I have your father’s belongings?”

Tony looked over at Fury from the corner of his eye. “Yeah.”

Fury was silent for a long, long time, so long that Tony began to think he wasn’t going to answer the question. Finally, he drew a breath. “Your father was a brilliant man. S.H.I.E.L.D. and its predecessors wanted him to join. He was, ultimately, too unstable in his personal life to make a good fit.”

“Like I was while I was dying.”

“Yes. If it wasn’t for the fact that your spouses are so damn competent and level-headed and sane even after dealing with you, you probably wouldn’t have a spot on this team either. But getting back to your father...there was a brief period when he seemed to get it together. Right after you were born, actually. For almost three years, he cut back on his drinking, was less angry, less obsessed with what the war had taken from him. Those in charge decided it was the right time to try and bring him into the fold, and I was sent to liaison with him.”

“It obviously didn’t work.”

“No, but not for a lack of trying.”

There was a horrifying moment of realization. “Oh my god, tell me you didn’t seduce my father.”

Fury shot him an odd, quixotic smile. “No. At least not in the way you’re thinking. We were friends. I was a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen, a steady hand to guide him. I gave him something no one else around him could.”

Tony knew of marriages that had been based on less. He frowned. “Did he ever ask you?”

“No.”

“If he had?”

For once, Fury turned completely to face him, his one eye meeting Tony’s steadily. “If he had, I would have said yes. I’m not going to pretend I loved him, not that way, but he was my friend. If I could have saved him from himself, I would have, even if that’s what it took. But he didn’t. And eventually, his mad quest to find Steve Rogers took over again.”

Tony laughed bitterly. “Of course. How could anyone, least of all his son, hope to compete with the great Captain America?”

“He wasn’t looking for Captain America, he was looking for Steve Rogers.” When Tony gave him a puzzled look, he sighed. “Howard liked James Barnes and Peggy Carter, but he _loved_ Steve, and he had to listen to him die.” He shook his head. “I’m not saying he was right, Stark, but he came back from that war as half a man and he never managed to find a way to make himself whole. Try not to hate him too much for it.”

The instinctive retort was bitten back. How would he have fared if he lost Rhodey or Pepper like that? Probably little better, though he wouldn’t have punished the rest of his family for it, and especially not his children. Tony nodded once. “I’ll think about it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to what might seem to be the case, this has not been abandoned. I've been trying to update a lot of fics and I've decided to post the first chunk of the next section. It's pretty much a bunch of information to give you the background to Clint and Phil so that their actual story will make sense without pages and pages of exposition.
> 
> This also gives me the opportunity to show more problems and dysfunctions that exist within the specifics of this world, which I am more eager to do than I should be.

There were many times when he was growing up that Clint wished he’d been born a girl.

It wasn’t that he _wanted_ to be a girl. He was perfectly happy being a man, had no desire to look pretty and put skirts on. He’d known some pretty cool guys who’d like doing that, but it wasn’t for him. No, what Clint had wanted was to be important, to have people who wanted him around, like the girls he’d seen at school or on the street; how they were _noticed_ and how just their very presence was appreciated.

As a kid, he’d always thought that if he were a girl, maybe his parents wouldn’t have fought so much. Maybe the bitter, jealous arguments between his fathers over his mother wouldn’t have been quite so bad. Maybe if he’d been a girl, Dad wouldn’t have started drinking, wouldn’t have thrown it in Papa Frank’s face that he’d given Edith her two children—though, knowing that sorry son of a bitch, it would have just been one more thing to hurt Papa Frank with, that he had a daughter while Frank had no kids. There were so many times when Clint had just wished Papa Frank was his father—most of his childhood that he could remember, in fact—instead of just Francis Bernard Barton being listed as his guardian on all his school forms. Because then when the sad, quiet man had finally left Harold’s drunken abuse, Clint could have gone with him, instead of just getting a tight hug in goodbye.

Most of all, though, Clint wished he had been a girl because then Mom _would_ have taken him with her when she left.

But he wasn’t a girl and that hadn’t happened. Clint and Barney—and God, that pissed Dad off so much, that they called Barney by his middle name instead of his first, especially after Papa Frank left—had been left with their increasingly intoxicated, increasing abusive father. With no one else there to run interference and protect Clint and Barney from Harold’s rage, life at home had turned into a nightmare. The night spent being screamed at and beaten had gone on for months, right up until the asshole wrapped his car around a telephone pole one night at 2 AM. Neither boy had shed any tears, not even standing at the gravesite, and Clint had privately hoped that it signaled a turn for the better in their lives. He should have known better.

When they’d gotten shipped to the orphanage, Clint again wished he’d been a girl. If he had been, he would have been adopted and gotten to bring Barney with him. Or better yet, the social workers would’ve made more than a token, half-hearted effort to find Mom and Papa Frank, and they could have been a real family, the way they should have been all along.

Instead, he and Barney had stuck it out in that miserable home for a couple years before finally running away in the middle of the night, hitching along with a circus that had been passing by. At least there everyone had been just about as messed up as they were. The manager set them to work as general labor, and then later as roustabouts. The work had been hard and tedious, but the circus took care of their own. They were a family, a strange family, but a caring one nonetheless. The performers taught them how to survive, how to make it in a world that didn’t care about them. The Swordsman and Trickshot taught them other skills, which not only helped them make more money in the circus, but taught them what they would need later in life if they ever left the circu. It was then that Clint finally felt like he’d found a home, like he could finally settle and be accepted for what he was. For the first time, he was actually happy with who he was and stopped wishing he was different.

Life with Carson’s Circus also opened his eyes up to how, in some ways, he had it good. Circus people were an odd lot, and in many ways, he supposed the “freak” and “deviant” insults that were hurled their way were deserved. What baffled him was when they turned on their own, in small, snide ways that were cruel and hurtful. Clara the Fortune Teller and Roberta the Tattooed Lady mothered Clint and Barney, and in their trailer they were warm and affectionate. Clint didn’t figure out until years later why they were never that way in public, why they seemed distant to each other once they passed through the doors of their home, and why even the carnies sometimes hassled them.

And then when he did know, he still didn’t _understand_. If Clara and Roberta didn’t like men, forcing them to be with men wouldn’t make anyone happy. Clint had seen that enough growing up. He couldn’t get his head around the fact that people, even those on the fringes of society, wanted certain things to be certain ways, and damn the consequences and people’s happiness. He made the promise then that he wouldn’t be like that, he wouldn’t try and force people to fit into roles they didn’t want. He might not like the way some people were made, but he wouldn’t try to change them.

That was something he stuck to, no matter what his life after the circus was like. He might save people, try to change their circumstances, or even kill them, but he wouldn’t try to change who they were at the their core. They would live—or die—as themselves.

Clint was good at keeping that promise, until it was sorely tested when he met Phil Coulson.

~*~

Phil grew up in a normal family—one mother, two fathers, three brothers and a sister. The only thing slightly unusual was that Rebecca was the oldest, and Phil spent most of his childhood being protected by her than the other way around. But except for that, everything was completely and utterly normal.

Which was the reason, as he hit his teenage years, he wondered why he felt so odd. He had friends, did well in school, was on the track team, and like all his classmates, engaged in a little mild flirtation with the girls when they were allowed to mingle during lunch and electives. He was, by all accounts, a perfectly example of the classic all-American boy, right down to his admiration of Captain America.

But for all the normalcy he presented, Phil knew there was something not quite right about him. Like all boys, he traded quick kisses and furtive gropings in dark corners with other guys, but it was always hard to muster up the desire. There were a few guys who managed to stir something in him—and he would die before he admitted that they bore a slight resemblance to Steve Rogers—but it was always weak and fleeting. He had no trouble getting hard when he saw a pretty girl in a short skirt or one of the scantily clad models when one of the guys stole his father’s skin mag. And when he jerked off, it was always to the thought of a pair of soft breasts and smooth, curvy hips. He never told anyone, not his friends, not his family, but there was something wrong with him. Whatever it was that made other guys want what was normal, Phil was missing it.

In college, he learned how to get it up enough if he wanted to get laid, but even then, he managed to arrange it so that he was always on the receiving end of blowjobs, or that he was the one topping during sex. And he always took them from behind. At least then he could close his eyes and pretend without offending his partners. He always made sure he took care of the guys he slept with—he got really good at giving pretty awesome handjobs—but there was no denying that he was basically using them. It always left him feeling slightly dirty, his actions rubbing his basic goodness the wrong way.

When he finally managed to sleep with a woman, it felt so right that even if there was something wrong with him, there was no point in trying to pretend he didn’t feel the way he did—that he was only attracted to women.

Once he’d made that discovery, things got harder instead of easier. He knew what he wanted and what he didn’t; he couldn’t pretend that he just didn’t know better. The girls at school were more willing to have a little fun, and Phil got the opportunity to explore, but it also reinforced just how abnormal he was. No matter what people did for fun, eventually, all relationships he was in led to a breakup when the girls started hinting they wanted something more normal, that maybe one of his friends could join them. So Phil stuck to brief, commitment-less fun, and tried his best not to be with guys so often that they noticed his lack of reciprocation. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than being alone.

When he joined the Army after college, things took a turn for the worse. All of the guys he served with wanted that white-picket fantasy, and a lot found buddies and future husbands in their units and companies. Phil, who knew he could never give any of his friends what they wanted, wisely stayed out of it, brushing aside any inquiries and comments on whether or not he’d found any potential partners by saying he wasn’t ready yet, or that he was more focused on his career. Moving up through the ranks and transferring so frequently had made it easier to avoid forming attachments and to hide his oddity.

It was lonely. In the Army, there was no chance for casual sex without the expectation for more. Life and the commitments that came with it were too important for these guys to waste time screwing around. Phil made do with his hand, dirty magazines, and memories of his encounters at college. He resigned himself to the fact that might never get what he really wanted, that he might never find the kind of relationship he knew was right for him.

However, once he joined S.H.I.E.L.D., Phil began to think that his dreams might not be so unrealistic. He was surprised first at the number of women in the ranks, and then that a great many of them were much like him in not wanting a traditional way of life. For the first time in his life, it was easy to find companionship when he wanted it, and there were no hard feelings when he and other agents parted ways. It was perhaps the most satisfied he’d been in his personal life since he’d been a teenager.

S.H.I.E.L.D. became more than just his job, and Phil had no intention of leaving the life he’d made for himself.

When Fury asked him to bring the assassin known as Hawkeye, Phil didn’t bat an eye. Hawkeye had been on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s radar for months as they gathered what little information they could on the idiosyncratic assassin, and that they finally felt they had enough leverage to recruit rather than eliminate him came as no surprise. Nor was it a surprise that Phil was the agent tasked with the job. He had a reputation for being able to wrangle the difficult ones, for never losing his cool, even in the face of the most trying situations.

And if Hawkeye agreed to their terms, he would also need a handler who wouldn’t attempt to make their professional relationship something more. Phil was known for keeping a strictly hands off policy, keeping relationship with his assets strictly professional. Personal relationships between handlers and assets happened fairly often, especially in an organization like S.H.I.E.L.D. where agents couldn’t discuss their work with significant others who were outside the organization. While it wasn’t encouraged, it was an aspect of human psychology that couldn’t be rooted out, and attempts to do so eventually led to disaster. Fury’s policy was to let new recruits get settled before putting them in situations where that could happen. And when it did, those bonds and relationships were used to help keep agents loyal. But given that the little intel they had on Hawkeye indicated he had deep-seated trust issues, S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn’t risk sending anyone who attempt that before he was secure with the organization. They couldn’t send anyone other than an agent like Phil.

Phil picked up the file and nodded to his boss. It was time to bring an assassin into the fold. It might be difficult, but Phil was confident that like every other recruitment, he would be successful. Hawkeye would become a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and Phil would have another outstanding asset under his command.

Recruiting Hawkeye would be practically routine.

**Author's Note:**

> If you do have specific questions about this world, I'd be more than happy to answer them in the comments.


End file.
